


semper ad meliora.

by arareads



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Mental Instability, Original Character(s), Theatre, dancer!yuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-06-22 17:12:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15586728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arareads/pseuds/arareads
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky finds himself in the theatre club at his school, one Greek mythology play later; he finds an interest in more than just acting.





	1. In the end, there's the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> 'Sup, so, this is my first story here, I've been struggling a little with the formatting so don't crucify me pls. 
> 
> Also, TW, this chapter does contain mentions of injury, passing comments on suicide and a good amount of cursing.
> 
> Hope you like it!

– Well, we were right - _The doctor said somberly, albeit seeming pleased with himself_ \- It's a stress fracture, right there, do you see the line? – _He was pointing at the X-Ray, particularly, at a tiny line in one of the bones, Yuri stared speechlessly._ –

 

Yuri's face appeared to be enough to bring the doctor back to being comforting and helpful, instead of self-congratulating.

 

– Yuri, do you know what a stress fracture is? – _Yuri simply nodded, his eyes fixated on the table in front of him -_

– Well, do you know why they happen?

– Overtraining, muscle fatigue, weak bones, not stopping or slowing down training when it hurts – _He answered matter-of-factly, many of his teammates had had stress fractures before_ -

– That's right. You did mention in our last consult that the pain had appeared about a month before you came in, is that right?

– Yep.

– Why did it take you so long to get it checked?

– I just assumed it would pass – _He finally looked up, making eye contact with the doctor_ – It's not unusual for me, or any dancer really, to be in pain. It's almost a guarantee, besides, I didn't think my hip could get fractured like that.

– Injuries like this one are indeed uncommon in dancers. Usually, you'd get a stress fracture in your shins or feet. Stress fracture on the hips happen more often to runners.

 

Silence reigned in the room for a moment. Yuri lowered his eyes and bit his lip to resist crying. Dancing was what he loved, and he fucked it up for himself. After taking a deep breath, he looked up again to address the doctor.

 

– So, what're we gonna do about it, doc?

– Well, since it is lower on the bone, there's not an immediate need for surgery – _Yuri let out a sigh of relief_ – Since it doesn't look too wide or deep, I think just resting could heal it, even if only partially.

– When we say "resting", – _He used air quotations, for dramatic effect_ – how long are we talking? And what are my limitations?

– That means no physical exercise or exertion for a minimum of four months, in four months you come back in, we check the progress, decide on the next step, if needed.

– So no training? Not even lightly? – _Yuri had gone past the initial shock and now pouted at the doctor as if that would change his mind_ –

– Mild stretching, only to keep the muscles moving. Other than that, no. – _Yuri groaned and threw his head back_ – You **can** come in in two months, maybe then you'll be good to go back to some light training.

– Alrighty then, you've got yourself a deal, doc. – _He rested his head in his hands, rubbing his face afterward, his hands coming to rest in front of his mouth_ –

– I'll give you a prescription for an anti-inflammatory; it should help with the symptoms. You should take these if you feel any pain or discomfort, do try to keep a space of at least 8 hours in between each pill. Remember to rest, I don't want you to be training, running, jogging, and if you could limit your walking that would be great. –  _He gave Yuri a knowing look_ – I know you athletes love doing what you do, but I'd rather have you take a break for 4 months than to have you resting 6 or 8 months because of surgery and physio, or even to stop training altogether because your body can't take it anymore.

– I know, doc – _He sighed, again_ –

– I'll see you in two months, Yuri. I'll bet you'll be better then. – _The doctor smiled and clamped his hand on Yuri's shoulder in a reassuring manner, handing him the prescription_ -

– Thanks, doc.

 

Yuri finally stood up, grabbed his backpack and left the doctor's office.

Once on the bus back home, his iPod took the chance to bring his mood further down. Playing an array of sad songs and some others he had choreographies for.

 _"What the fuck am I supposed to do now?"_   was repeating constantly inside his head, even knowing there wasn't a clear answer just yet

* * *

 

  
Monday rolled around all too quickly and this time Yuri was dreading dance class way more than curricular classes. He showered and dressed with less motivation than usual, slipping inside some sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, matching it with some vans and throwing a hoodie on, tying half of his hair up into something that loosely resembled a ponytail. He grabbed his backpack and headed to the living room where his grandpa was already eating his breakfast as he read a book.

He sat down next to him after serving himself breakfast, a bowl of **kasha** , he grabbed a banana on the side and a cup of black tea. Once Nikolai finished his breakfast he closed the book and caught Yuri's attention by clearing his throat.

 

– Yes, dedushka?

– Did you remember to pack the medic exams? - _A thick accent plagued his words_ -

– Yes, sir.

– And the medicines?

– Yes, sir.

– You have to talk to that Mrs. Chandler, the advisor? – _Nikolai sometimes struggled with his English, his sentence building method consisted of scrambling until he found the word he deemed closest or the one Yuri could understand contextually_  -

– The counselor, dedushka. – _Yuri smiled fondly at his grandpa_ – I will talk to the counselor in one of my free periods, don't worry, please. – _Nikolai rubbed his grandson's upper back, he knew how hard it was for him_ –

– If you need anything, call the bakery, your babushka asked me to help her today. Alright? – _Yuri nodded as he took his final sip of tea. –_

 

Yuri got up, washed the dishes quickly and shoved his water bottle on the side of his backpack before kissing his dedushka's forehead and heading out the door. The thought that he couldn't walk to school (or shouldn't) popped in his head suddenly, he decided riding his bike wasn't really an option either, so he had to settle on either taking the bus or stealing one of his grandparent's cars. Quickly ruling out stealing, he walked towards the bus stop, putting in his earbuds.

About five songs passed before the bus finally arrived, and quickly remembered why he had started walking to school. He didn't have many friends, not even acquaintances, riding the bus just made it more obvious to him and everyone around. He sat on one of the front window seats, it took about 8 more songs to get to the school, thanks to all the stops it had to make, once there he took a second to select a song to make him feel like less of a useless lonely injured little kid and more like an (injured) teen who could make friends if he wanted. So he skipped, and skipped, and skipped until he came upon one of Kendrick Lamar's songs, DNA.

Once the first bass hit he started walking in, it reminded him of prancing around competitions acting better-than-thou or walking into the stage knowing he was about to give the best performance he could. The energy ran through his body, sending shivers and jolts all through his legs, back, and neck. He let his dancer side take over for a bit, straightening his back, lifting his chin, taking his hands out of his pockets, looking over or past everyone, knowing a good portion of them were staring, snaking between the people that were crowding the hall, not letting anyone stop him.

Since classes wouldn't start for another 20 minutes he simply walked to the football field, he was in the mood for some stretching. The song ended shortly before he reached the field, being replaced by some rap song by some Latin-American dudes, one his dance group had a choreography for; he went over the choreo in his head while sitting on the grass working on some middle split stretches. He assumed working on the muscles around the bone that was fractured would help with some of the pain.

 

– Plisetsky! – _A booming female voice made Yuri jump suddenly, which caused him to go too far into his stretch, he bit down on his own teeth to avoid making any noise_ –

– What the fuck makes you think you can just yell at me? I knew you were a piece of shit, didn't really need any damn evidence, Mila – _He answered brusquely, slowly breaking the stretch_ -

– Wow, someone's bitter

– Yeah, no shit, you just fucked up my stretch, you bitch.

– I just assumed you had fallen asleep and I was going to wake you up so you could get to your class – _Mila faked a pout as she sat down in front of Yuri_ –

– Save your good girl bullshit for someone who actually believes it, Babicheva.

– Alright, alright, no more Mild Mila for you then - _She chuckled and Yuri was unsure whether it was because of her stupid alliteration or just because_ -

– Why the fuck are you here anyways, cougar?

– I was looking for you, coach wanted to know why you missed rehearsal on Friday, said it was "really unlike someone as dedicated as Yurio" – _She deepened her voice and moved her head exaggeratedly, mimicking coach Giacometti, Yuri stifled a laugh -_

– Right, I forgot I'm the only responsible member in the crew. – _He took the X-Ray out of his backpack and threw it in Mila's lap, not wanting to explain_ –

– The fuck is this? Your resignation letter? – _Although her tone was mocking, her face didn't show any sign of amusement_ – Oh, shit – _Once she had pulled out the X-Ray she went completely silent –_

 

Yuri took the X-Ray from her, holding it up against the sunlight, pointing at the minuscule line on his hip.

 

– Stress fracture, femoral neck, 2 to 4 months of resting, only allowed mild stretching, the doc didn't completely discard the idea of surgery, though he said I should be alright by just not doing shit for a while. – _Mila just stared at the X-Ray_ \- Damn, I would've gotten injured sooner if I knew it'd shut you up.

– When did this happen? Yuri, what the fuck?

– Ugh, don't get sappy, all dancers are, get, or have been injured at some point. -  _Yuri put the X-Ray down on his lap -_

– I would know, my knee still hasn't healed, doesn't mean I was told I might need surgery. Yuri, what the fuck?

– I don't know, I guess it was that Sinatra choreo with all the jumps and shit, my landings were always sloppy. I just didn't know I was fracturing my hip, I thought I had been over-stretching my spagat or some shit – _Yuri started putting the X-Ray back in his bag_ – I didn't even think I could fracture my hip – _He laughed bitterly as he got up –_

– The Sinatra choreo was, like, three months ago, Yuri. Why the fuck did you only go to the doctor now? - _Mila stood up quickly, wanting to continue the conversation -_

– Alright, look here, I've been going to the doctor for over a month now, they were wasting my time doing useless exams and finding nothing until one smart-ass decided to get an X-Ray, so I guess at least one of them went to medical school.

– When are you going to tell coach?

– First I have to talk to the counselor to fill my extracurricular hours or some shit like that, then I talk to Chris, then I kill myself, don't worry, I've already planned everything. _– Yuri rolled his eyes and started walking towards the building –_

– Plisetsky! God damn it, at least wait until you can't dance anymore to kill yourself – _She said, frantically following after him_ –

 

Yuri had to endure the literature teacher talk endlessly about the "Hierarchy of Gods in Greek Mythology" and why it was "relevant for the myths" or something like that. He ran out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang, heading down to the counselor's office, not wanting to hear one more word about genealogy in the pantheon.

He found himself standing right in front of the counselor's office, yet he couldn't bring himself to actually knock on the door. He was reluctant to quit the dance team, he had basically founded the damned thing and now he had to quit it and all because he didn't take care of his own body. He knew that going through that door was the first step towards the inevitable.

Well, it was either this or losing his extracurricular credit, and he couldn't simply forgo extra credit. He finally knocked on the door and was then welcomed inside by Mrs. Chandler, or Lucy, as she asked the students to call her.

 

– How may I help you? – _Her voice was sweet but Yuri could tell it wasn't genuine_ –

– I, uh, I need to change my extracurricular – He mumbled out, scratching the back of his neck –

– Under which pretense? - **_Harsh, lady, harsh._** -

– Not really a pretense, more of an impediment – _Yuri struggled with his bag, his hands were shaking, he dropped a brown folder on the table_ – I'm in the dance team, or was, I don't know.

– And what are these? - _She opened the folder and started going through the papers_ -

– Medical stuff. Records, exams, all that. – He sighed – I injured my hip and won't be able to dance, or exercise, for the next 2 to 4 months.

– I see, Yuri. - _She read the name off of one of the exams_ – Have you considered maybe staying in the dance team, perhaps partaking more passively?

– What does that even mean? It's not like I can just get benched, we don't even use benches. – _Lucy smiled humorlessly_ -

– Well, I was thinking more along the lines of assisting the teacher, would that not work? - _ **This lady must hate paperwork, damn**_ - 

– I thought about it. But Coach Chris already has, like, three assistants; don't see how I could help.

– Alright, so you'll drop out of the dance team for the rest of the term then. You said you wanted to pick up another extracurricular? – _She started typing away on her computer –_

– Yeah, yeah – _He answered after a moment_ – Clearly nothing sporty… I'd also rather it weren't too academic – _Then, as an afterthought_ – Please.

– Well, would you rather culture or art? – _She looked at him, but continued typing, Yuri was sure that was just for show_ –

– What's the difference?

– Culture is more oriented towards languages and foreign countries in this school. Art has painting, plastic arts, theatre, literature and creative writing, and such.

– Can I take Russian?

– Mr. Plisetsky I doubt you need to learn Russian, and if you are looking for an easy exit I won't be the one to provide it.

 

Mrs. Chandler turned her computer monitor towards Yuri; there was a list of all the Arts and Performance clubs that could take him in.

 

** Performance & Arts Extracurricular Groups:  **

**Music:** Choir. Ensemble. Marching band.

 **Performing Arts:** Dance. Film production. Slam poetry. Theatre.

 **Media:** School newspaper/magazine. Yearbook committee. School radio.

 **Art:** Ceramics. Sewing. Graphic design. Sculpting. Painting. Woodworking.

 

Yuri stared blankly as he considered his options. Music? No, that required some level of talent. Performing arts **were** more in his comfort zone, but now he only had film, poetry, and theatre, ugh. He didn't even know "media" was a thing, since when was there a school newspaper or radio show? Art, too, required some amount of talent. This basically left him with film and theatre **(poetry is for nerds, duh)**. He guessed both could, at some point, involve acting, which wasn't part of his plan, but he didn't really care about cameras, editing or any part of the filmmaking process, so he guessed in the theatre club he could be backstage. He **had** learned a good amount of backstage survival tips after being a dancer for a couple of years, so as long as he was behind the curtain it should be alright, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm here again. For clarification, mostly.
> 
> Kasha is a type of porridge made from various grains, predominantly buckwheat I think.  
> The femoral neck is the bone that connects the femur to the pelvis.  
> Dedushka and babushka mean grandfather and grandmother, respectively.


	2. A godly intervention.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuri meets the theatre club and decisions are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, here's the second chapter!  
> I've been monitoring (perhaps incessantly) the interactions being made with this story and I'm happy to see any response, honestly.  
> Hope you enjoy this one!

His first rehearsal with the theatre club was on Wednesday and Yuri was more nervous than he’d like to admit. He didn’t know what to bring, wear, or think, he wasn’t good with first times and this was no exception. The first time doing anything was always awkward, it felt like walking on the edge. Not to mention, meeting new people was bad enough, meeting people you'd have to work with for the foreseeable future was definitely worse.

Shaking his nervousness off and throwing a bunch of things in his bag, he slipped a sweater on and left.

* * *

When he first reached the auditorium he half expected it to be empty, at least that would’ve given him an excuse to leave and it not being frowned upon, but as he opened the door he was met with around 10 students already there, sitting in a circle in the middle of the stage, having what seemed to be an entertaining conversation. He could hear the laughter and some words that were said slightly louder, in a manner he wasn’t sure was intentional or not though.

Yuri took a deep breath and ran his hand through his shoulder length hair, telling himself it would be okay, they were theatre kids after all, and what could they do to him? Explain the relevance of Shakespeare in the modern world? Dare him to a riff off? Use references from things he didn’t know to make him look bad in front of the rest of the theatre kids even if those same exact references held no significance or meaning whatsoever to him or anyone who didn’t have a liking for theatre? Hopefully not.

He started laughing at his own ridiculous scenarios, yet he could see them playing out quite clearly. He didn’t stop laughing anyway; it just morphed into an awkward kind of laughter, the kind that slips out when someone makes a joke about something that makes one insecure, the kind that holds a slight bitterness to it. Suddenly realizing he was laughing by himself, with no apparent thing to laugh at, Yuri faked a cough and straightened his back, gathering his wits.  
Still, he couldn’t just burst through the door and act like all was well, he wasn’t a good actor, which was ironic considering the current situation.  
  
A tall figure passed in front of him, Yuri took that as his entrance ticket and quickly scurried behind them. He silently punished himself for walking with his head down, it was far too much of a submissive behavior and Yuri Plisetsky was not known for his submissiveness. But when he tried to look up, he was met with high-pitched screams he barely distinguished as greetings.

  
– Vitya! – _A_ _girly voice shrieked_ – We missed you! – _He heard the steps of who he assumed was the screaming girl rushing down the stairs at the sides of the stage –_  
– Chip! – _“Vitya” opened his arms to embrace “Chip”, **that’s one weird name**_ –

  
The Chip girl finally reached Vitya and hugged him tightly. Yuri was simply standing stiffly behind the embracing pair, not knowing what to do. So, he just waited for his presence to be reckoned, that was until Chip finally saw him acting like a lampshade and addressed him.

  
\- Vitya, you didn’t mention you brought someone. – _She slowly broke the hug, as he turned, only now noticing Yuri’s presence_ –  
\- That might’ve been because I didn’t – _Chip laughed and Vitya just smiled warmly at him_ – So, are you our fresh meat, little fella? – _More than offended, Yuri was amused –_  
\- Who the fuck says shit like little fella? – _He mumbled, mostly to himself, but Chip heard the snarky whisper and burst out laughing_ –  
\- You’re gonna fit right in, kid. – _Chip wrapped her arm around his shoulder and took him to the stage_ –

Once on the stage, Chip made everyone form a circle, similarly to how Yuri had seen them when he peeked through the door. Oh no, this was well on its way to becoming one of those “We’ll go ‘round the circle and introduce ourselves!” moments, and Yuri was not down for that.

  
\- Alrighty! What’s your name? – _Chip asked him all too cheerfully. **I fucking knew it**_ –  
\- Uh, hi everyone. – _He said, not expecting the chorus of hi’s and hello’s that he was met with_ – You theatre people are loud, damn – _Similarly, a chorus of laughter followed_ – I’m Yuri Plisetsky and I don’t like acting.  
\- Not the first time I’ve heard that one! – _said Vitya, Chip burst out laughing_ –

Now, Yuri realized, it didn’t have to be as awkward as he pictured it.

\- Mind telling us why you decided to join us theatre folk suddenly? – _Someone in the group asked, but he couldn’t pin who_ –  
\- I used to be on the dance team actually.  
\- Right! That’s where I’d seen your face before! – _Chip exclaimed_ –  
\- Yeah, we shared backstage for the last winter talent show. I remember there was going to be this huge fight because a guy in my team lost his lucky shoes and he was sure it was one of you guys that had stolen it.  
\- Oh, right! I wanted to beat him up so bad. – _Vitya said with a huge smile on his face_ –  
\- Trust me, you were not the only one. - _Yuri chuckled lightly_ –  
\- Did you not like being on the dance team? – _Chip asked, with a surprising amount of empathy in her tone_ –  
\- No, no, I loved it actually.  
\- Why are you here then? – _Was the follow-up, the guy beside her hit her on the arm unceremoniously_ – What? It’s a good question.  
\- I got injured and I can’t do anything too physical for a couple of months.  
\- Does that include sex? – _A random girl asked, making Yuri turn painfully red, the group erupted in cackles and reprimands equally_ –  
\- That’s a good one, I should’ve asked the doc. 

  
There was a smile on Yuri’s face that wasn’t entirely out of amusement. Yeah, he could see himself spending the rest of the term with them without it being too dreadful.

They spent a couple of minutes making small talk, everyone introduced themselves. Chip’s name, Yuri found out, was actually Sara; Chip was the nickname Victor (or Vitya) gave her, some lame pun about her last name, Crispino. He explained that he spent some holidays over in Europe and while in London he noticed chips were called “crisps”, Victor thought it was so funny he simply started calling her Crisp but when no one got it was a joke, he went for “Chip” instead. Victor couldn’t stop laughing while telling the story.

Sara decided it was enough talking for the day, noticing Yuri becoming slowly more comfortable around the group. Interrupting an increasingly heated discussion about whether musicals or straight plays were better, Sara started asking for ideas for the next play.

  
\- We could go classic and just do Shakespeare – _Seung-Il, Yuri recognized, was the one to suggest it, eliciting a groan from everyone_ – What? It’s the bard; you can’t go wrong with the bard. – _He huffed_ –  
\- You always suggest Shakespeare and we never go for it, there’s a reason for that. You’re smart; I thought you would’ve figured it out by now. – ** _Michelle? Or was it Michael? –_ **  
\- Well, duh, it’s because you guys have no taste whatsoever. - _Before Seung-Il could get a response Victor jumped in_ -  
\- Ok! Anyone else wants to suggest something? Perhaps in a peaceful, non-defensive manner?  
\- I say we go for Into The Woods. - _A cheerful girl chimed in_ -  
\- We are not doing a 2-hour musical, Karina. Sorry.  
\- That doesn’t rule out all musicals, right?  
\- Kinda sorta, uh, yeah. We don’t have time to do a musical  
\- But, it’s a musical – _Karina, appropriately, broke into song_ – a musical, and nothing’s as amazing as a musical, with song and – _She was cut off by Sara_ -  
\- We get it, Karina! You want a musical – _She started laughing_ –  
\- There’s just too much to do, I’m sorry. We’d need a choreographer, a voice coach, not to mention the costumes and props. – _Karina pouted_ –  
\- How about The Death of a Salesman? – _Michelle offered_ –  
\- If we’re doing tragedy we should do it right and go for Shakespeare. – _It was Seung-Il, again_ -  
\- Who says Shakespeare is the right way of doing tragedy? – _Commented one of the guys_ –  
\- Oh, please, he’s the father of tragedy.  
\- Dang, and here I was, thinking tragedy originated in Greece, oh, how foolish of me – _The same guy countered, dryly. Come to think of it, Yuri doesn’t remember his name, or if he even introduced himself –_  
\- It’s one thing doing it first, it’s a totally different one to do it properly  
\- Hey, Altin, didn’t I say suggestions should be peaceful and non-defensive? – _Victor interrupted again_ –  
\- Fine, then I’ll calmly suggest we do something Greek, there’s plenty of mythology to choose from if Bardy here doesn’t want to ruin tragedy with something lik an actual classic. – _He gestured towards Seung-Il, cocking one of his brows –_  
\- That’s… Not a bad idea. You do know there’s tragedy in mythology though, right? – _Sara asked, the guy simply smirked and nodded_ – Alrighty, who votes for Greek? – _A good portion of the hands went up_ –

Yuri didn’t put his hand up, he had more than enough of Greek mythology in literature class, and he didn’t want any more of it. Still, a good portion of the group did so there was no escaping now. After that, they voted on doing a tragedy or a myth, myth won, still without Yuri’s vote. Once they started the voting on which myth they would portray, Sara called out to him.

\- Hey, Yuri, what do you think we should do?  
\- I wouldn’t know, this is not really my area.  
\- Someone hasn’t been paying attention to literature class – _Said Victor in a singsong voice, causing everyone to laugh_ -  
\- I mean, all I know about Greek mythology is about the gods and that stuff.  
\- A myth about the gods isn’t too bad. How long has it been since something like that was produced here? – _Altin started toying with the idea_ –  
\- I’m pretty sure it was before we even joined the club – _Sara was the one to answer_ -  
\- I wouldn’t mind doing a Greed god extravaganza – _Victor chimed in_ –  
\- Yeah, ‘cause you think you look like a Greek god yourself – _Altin was back to throwing sarcastic comments_ -  
\- You think I look like a Greek god? – _His pitch went higher as he spoke, raising a hand to his chest and with a smile spreading on his face, Altin just laughed_ –  
\- Don’t sprain your wrist stroking your own ego, Vitya – _Yuri started cackling until Victor shot him a mild glare, making him muffle his laughter_ –  
\- Even when I love this snazzy back-and-forth, I would love even more if we could leave today with an idea – _Sara was, again, the voice of reason_ –

They spent the rest of the afternoon discussing myths, characters, costumes and such. Everyone now had their phone out, searching for an interesting story they could bring to the stage.

\- These are all awful, ugh – _Yuri complained, sticking his tongue out_ –  
\- I know, they lack substance, artistry, and the writing is awful – _Seung-Il sounded disgusted and uppity_ –  
\- Still better than Shakespeare – _Karina flashed him a toothy smile, quickly turning her attention back to her phone_ – Hey, this one is pretty cool, the story of Hades and Persephone – _She read dramatically, extending one of her arms in front of her with a forlorn look, bursting into laughter shortly after –_  
\- I read that one, don’t you think it’s patronizing? – _Yuri said, bringing everyone’s attention towards him_ – What’re Y'all looking at?  
\- Didn’t take you for an opinionated one, 's all - _Sara started teasing_ –  
\- It’s more of an observation rather than an opinion  
\- What’s the difference?  
\- An opinion has an argumentative connotation.  
\- Ooh, big words, guess you’re not skipping all of your lit classes. Do tell, what’s so patronizing about it?  
\- Persephone is treated like a doll, thrown around between her husband and mother, she’s never asked what she actually wants, what if she actually liked Hades. Who says she was kidnapped? Why can’t she have escaped her mom or something?– _Victor slow-clapped for a full ten seconds –_  
\- We could adapt the myth, y’know? – _Victor finally said after clapping_ –  
\- What? Rewrite it and stuff?  
\- Sure. I don't know if you know but theatre is all about creativity and new ideas and all of that. – _This time, it was Michelle who intervened_ –  
\- Oh, no, no, no, no. If we’re doing a classic we should at least stick to it. – _Again, Seung-Il was a purist_ –  
\- Seung-Il, baby boy, you’re slowly making it harder for us to take you into account. – _Sara said all too sweetly and only got a groan in response_ –  
\- This rewriting thing, how would we do it? – _Yuri’s curiosity had sparked_ –  
\- Well, we always create different teams. We do need to work on some other things like costumes, props, scenery, hair and makeup, blah, blah, blah. – _Sara explained, since it was a routine for them each member knew what they were good at and they exploited that for the bests results every time_ – Would you like to be in the writing team?  
\- I guess. If that doesn’t work I can help with costumes or makeup. – _He answered, sheepish_ –  
\- You should know, the reunions for the special teams are usually held out of our club hours.  
\- That’s fine, just tell me when and where and I’ll do my best to be there.

Yuri was getting increasingly more excited. In his dance team, he didn’t really have much creative freedom, only throwing ideas here and there, ideas which usually were ignored. Now, he had the possibility to help create something from scratch. He didn’t think it would be easy however, he had never written anything other than an essay before.

Sara’s phone went off with an alarm that Yuri guessed signaled the end of rehearsal. If you could call it a rehearsal when they hadn’t actually rehearsed anything.

* * *

They all left the auditorium as a group. Once in the parking lot some left in their cars, others were picked up, but the one person who caught Yuri’s eye was Otabek. Hearing the motorcycle engine spur to life got his attention, he had never seen any motorcycle on school grounds, especially not one this eye-catching. It wasn’t colorful or overtly flamboyant, but it looked well-kept and very expensive, and with the afternoon sun contrasting beautifully with it, making it especially photo-worthy.

Otabek became aware of the staring and lifted an extra helmet in Yuri’s direction.

  
\- Hey, blondie. Want a ride? – _Yuri was taken aback, not only was he caught staring, he was basically called out for it. He simply shook his head in return, as he started walking_ – C’mon, aren’t you injured? Sure you want to walk it out? – _Yuri stopped and turned towards Otabek again_ –

  
Yuri wasn’t sure if he should’ve been as surprised as he was about the fact that Altin even remembered he was injured. Sure, he had said it to the whole group but as a passing comment. Still, it shouldn’t that weird, he was now a team member.

  
He decided that simply standing there thinking, wasn’t going to get him home any faster, and after all, Otabek did have a point. Otabek shook the helmet in his hand slightly, Yuri went ahead and basically ripped it from his hand.

  
\- Are you heading up or down the street? - _Otabek asked as Yuri fastened the helmet on -_  
\- Down. But I’m pretty sure you should’ve asked that beforehand.

  
Otabek nodded almost imperceptively and started driving; Yuri, feeling the bike start to move suddenly, wrapped his arms around Otabek’s torso in a bit of a panicked state.


	3. An inside look.

It was Thursday, and Yuri was proud to say he’d survived his first reunion with the theatre club. Now, however, he could only hope he’d survive the upcoming ones.

Once at school, he found himself at the football field first thing in the morning, yet again, with a notebook and a pen in hand trying to come up with some ideas for the play.

Minutes passed him by and Yuri struggled to find a solid idea. Pulling out his phone, frustrated, he texted Sara to see if she was at school so she’d come to the field. After a couple of while, Sara appeared, smiling widely as ever.

\- Does this mean I’m officially your friend?  
\- You’d like that, wouldn’t you? – _He snickered, but smiled nonetheless_ -  
\- Wow, I knew dancers had an ego but coming from you, I’m shocked.  
\- Oh, shut up, everyone knows actors are way more egotistical, and that's a fact. - _Sara feigned offense-_  
\- Alright, alright, we can always fight later. What’d you want me here for?  
\- Right… I’ve been thinking about what we could do for the play but I’m seriously low on ideas.  
\- Really? I thought you’d already have a script by now with how passionate you were yesterday.  
\- It’s just, - _Yuri groaned lowly, unable to find proper words_ – There’re too many ideas and I don’t know which one to work with.  
\- Alrighty then, how about you give us your top 3?  
\- Don’t be patronizing, I thought about narrowing it down and my brain simply refuses to work with me on that.  
\- Well – _Sara glanced at her watch_ – We have some time, I’m sure we can do something by then. – _She flashed him a toothy smile_ –  
\- You know? Even if I liked you enough, you’re too optimistic to be my friend. – _Yuri chuckled and Sara lightly punched his arm_ –

* * *

 

Yuri knocked on the counselor’s door, fucking yay, it was bad enough talking to Lucy once, the fact that she’d convinced herself that regular visits were necessary was only bad-der, or just worse if you preferred proper English.

Yuri heard Mrs. Chandler’s voice from the inside of the room and he opened the door, slightly awestruck when he saw Coach Giacometti and Victor already in the counselor’s office.

\- Yura! – _Chris stood up and embraced him without much warning_ –  
\- Coach Giacometti, I believe this kind of contact with students isn’t only uncalled for, it’s inappropriate. – _Mrs. Chandler’s voice cut through the room harshly, Yuri could feel the man hugging him scoff exasperatedly before breaking the embrace_ –  
\- Hello, Yuri – _Victor greeted calmly from his seat_ –  
\- What sort of intervention is this? – _Both Chris and Victor chuckled while Mrs. Chandler simply smiled coldly_ -  
\- It isn’t. I thought it would be a sensible decision to gather you three and discuss the current situation concerning you, Mr. Plisetsky.

The fact that her smile never wavered or faltered, yet always looked cold and unreachable was alarming, to say the least. Yuri took a seat between the two men, trying to ignore how uncomfortable the situation was.

\- As I said, the reason I wanted to meet with you three is concerning Mr. Plisetsky.  
\- What’d he do? – _Was the coach’s question_ -  
\- Yeah, what’d I do?  
\- Nothing I’m aware of; unless you would like to confess to something. – _She looked right at Yuri, who chuckled bitterly_ –  
\- No, ma’am. Proceed with the intervention. – _Mrs. Chandler promptly ignored his sarcasm_ -  
\- As you all are aware Mr. Plisetsky had to change his extracurricular for reasons of injury and medical advice against physical strain, correct?  
\- Yes, ma’am.  
\- Taking into account the fact that Mr. Plisetsky has been in the dance team since he was a freshman, however, I worry this sudden change of surroundings could take a toll on his psyche. – _**If you’re going to say you’re worried, at least act the part, dammit**_ –  
\- Right, and we’re here because? – _Victor was the one to ask_ –  
\- As the former and current mentors of Mr. Plisetsky, I believe is in your best interests that he’s comfortable with the ongoing situation.  
\- What am I here for then? – _Yuri was slowly getting Mrs. Chandler more worked up_ –  
\- Are you or are you not at the center of the situation, Mr. Plisetsky?  
\- I guess? I still don’t know why I have to be here while you talk their ears off. – _The smile on Mrs. Chandler’s face faltered finally, turning into a disbelieving frown –_  
\- I cannot believe your behavior! If you didn’t want to partake in a meeting you could have said so, there wasn’t a need for you to come into my office and disrespect me like this!  
\- I think we all established we didn’t care much for this meeting. – _Yuri shrugged simply_ – So, if you’d excuse me, I have a class to get to.

Yuri grabbed his backpack and without sparing a glance to any of the others present in the room, made his exit.

* * *

 

Otabek Altin had gotten used to picking people apart. To look at their habits, routines, mannerisms, patterns of speech, body language and how they changed and adapted according to the situation. That was the main (if not only) reason he was now hidden in plain sight in the school’s parking lot. He had some free time before his next class and he hadn’t found a reason to wander the halls, thus, choosing the company of his motorcycle over any of the people that – well, not knew, but rather recognized him as a face they’d seen before.

He was never one to have too many friends. Mainly, because he didn’t have as much of an interest in partaking in human relationships as he did in analyzing them. He could entertain himself plenty just by finding a corner, sticking to it, and seeing social protocols unravel right before his eyes. He could understand the subtleties and underlying messages of body language, he could analyze the patterns that people created, he saw the messages hidden between the lines easily. However, even if he considered himself fluent in the theoretical parts of socializing, he wasn’t quite as versed in how the practice could, or should, take place.  
Considering people more trouble than they were worth, Otabek had taken a liking for solitude and silence, finding comfort in his own company and entertainment in his thoughts. He didn’t need anyone; although, sometimes needs and desires could take wildly different paths.

Nonetheless, after so many years of being by himself, Otabek questioned if his own company could be outdone by someone else. He found himself interesting enough, sure, he could tolerate being around others, like in theatre, he hung around them for rehearsals or whenever Victor and Sara came up with some reason to meet outside of their regular schedule. And he actually had an affinity with most of the group, they didn’t force him to partake in any of the conversations unnecessarily nor tried to convince him to be cheerful and bright, and if they needed him they’d simply let him know and allow him to work. He supposed their company was decent at best, but he still didn’t find any reason to spend his free time with any of the theatre members. So it was back to square one.

Otabek started wandering around the parking lot, trying to stretch his legs a little. He put his earbuds in, deciding it was a good idea to have some background music to accompany his inner monologue.

* * *

 

Yuri was in the cafeteria, looking for somewhere to sit, somewhere other than with his former dance teammates that is. He had made that mistake once and that was more than enough for him.

It made him realize that all they ever talked about was about dance, and their new choreographies or how sore they were after a particularly intense rehearsal, it left him with no way to contribute to the conversation, not really. He could talk from experience, he knew how things worked at the dance club, but he didn’t attend rehearsals now, he didn’t know what the hardest combination looked like, he didn’t know the songs they were using, he didn’t know any of the current events, and that was just salt to injury.

He wound up sitting by himself, not caring much for finding company, instead feeding his very own dramatic discourse. Because, even though he had convinced everyone – and even himself for a little – that he was coping just fine, it was only an elaborate rouse, and he couldn’t just sit around his old team to hear them yap excitedly about all the things he couldn’t do, at least not for a while. Besides, sitting around them and hearing the chatter about how they were all worked out made his own muscles ache with a need to move. And that, in turn, made his brain itch with the idea that maybe he wouldn’t heal properly, that his bones wouldn’t mend in the right place, that he would be haunted by the tiny line that had already shattered a sizeable portion of himself for the rest of his life.

Suddenly, he realized he hadn’t really taken the time to think about the situation properly. Even when he’d volunteered to help with writing the newest play for the theatre club, he hadn’t even come to terms with the fact that he was now a member of them. A plethora of thoughts came rushing to him, he hadn’t danced in weeks, he was stuck with the theatre club for the rest of the term, he still had a month and a half before he could go to his next appointment, and he still had a play to write. Fuck, Lucy was right, this was threatening his mental stability. Damn her for knowing how to do her job.

The stream of thoughts was enough to upset his appetite, so he settled on toying with his food until lunch ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a bit shorter, I hope you don't mind that too much:^(


	4. And so, it blooms.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuri and Otabek start becoming friends. 
> 
> TW: Descriptions of a dissociation-like state + mention of alcohol.

Yuri sat in his bed with all the lights out. He wasn’t really aware of how he wound up in his current position, his memory seemed to be failing; everything seemed to be failing.

There wasn’t much to think about either, and the only things that did go through his head were negative ones. He wasn’t feeling all too well really. He can’t remember the last time he felt okay anyways. Has he ever felt okay? He couldn’t know, his memory was failing, everything seemed to be failing.

  
  
The sound of a car engine coming to life jolted him out of his thoughts. For how long had he been thinking again? He checked his phone, it was 2 am, another sleepless night apparently.

Perhaps the reason he hadn’t been able to fall asleep was simply thanks to the fact that he had been sitting, likely for hours now. Time had also become a blurry concept. Everything was blurry, time, the lines between having trouble falling asleep and insomnia, his memory, his body, his face felt blurry too; his mind had clocked out and he hadn’t been able to find a way to make it come back. He laid down, finally, feeling the soreness in his legs slowly dissipating.

Closing his eyes, he tried to turn off his thoughts. Quickly noticing that he didn’t really have much power over his mind, and since the part of it that usually took care of that had decided to take a vacation, he didn’t really have many options other than to deal with his mind racing in as many directions as it liked, after all, it’s hard to silence the sound of your own thoughts. He took a deep breath, feeling his chest tight, almost rejecting the oxygen he was putting in it.

Why did he feel like this? It was like he could feel every inch of his body vibrating with static, it was surreal. All he really registered was a dooming pressure in his head, bordering on a headache, but not quite getting there, he wasn't sure which option was worse. He took another deep breath in, this one made him dizzy, even while laying down. Everything around him was spinning; he could feel it, or maybe he was the one spinning. Honestly, there was no way of knowing that.

* * *

 

Yuri woke up to his alarm blaring stupidly loudly; now, whether it was always that loud he couldn’t figure out.

His body seemed to be working of its own accord, he got out of bed and quickly went through his morning routine, only realizing he was already out of the house one he was in the bus halfway to school. He blinked rapidly, trying to bring himself back to reality. What was happening to him?

* * *

 

Otabek arrived early to rehearsal, so early in fact that he was the first one there, which would usually be okay with him, yet today there was something odd happening. He couldn’t really put his finger on what it was, he just knew he didn’t like it.   
It was an odd burning in his chest, not quite though. It felt like his chest had turned into a subway cart with too many people and no ventilation. It was steaming hot, stuffy, tight and overall uncomfortable. He drank some water, trying to soothe the heat within himself, but it didn’t help much.

Really, Otabek was aware that there was little chance that the feeling would go away soon, so he settled on ignoring it, deciding to distract himself with his phone. He went on YouTube, opening some random playlist, assuming music would be good for drowning out his own thoughts.

 

Yuri was making his way towards the school’s auditorium when his ears picked up a slight humming. Immediately his brain stood to attention, panicked, was he fabricating the sound or was there actual humming? He stopped in his tracks, giving himself a second to try and find a source for the tune. It took him a moment to reckon it was coming from the auditorium, probably. Deeming it safe enough he resumed his trek, after all, murderers didn’t just hum random songs under their breaths.   
Once he turned the last corner he could see it wasn’t a murderer at all, but Otabek. He was sitting down against the wall, his head thrown back, and he was indeed humming. Yuri noticed he had his earbuds in, so it was likely he wouldn’t hear him if he walked up to him. So, he did. He slowly approached Otabek, suddenly invaded by curiosity, what was he listening to? Yuri couldn’t recall the song; once he was close enough to peep at his phone screen he was overcome with awkwardness. What exactly was he trying to do? Why did it entail him tip-toeing around Otabek? He could’ve simply asked him what song he was listening to, it would’ve probably been easier than trying to be a spy in a cheesy 70’s movie, all sneak and stealth or whatever.

Having come upon the realization that he was acting as weird as he felt, Yuri decided to drop the act and simply say hi to Otabek like a decently functioning human being.

Otabek felt a tap on his shoulder that made his heart jump, quite the refreshing sensation honestly considering his chest was acting like a damned corset by itself. He opened his eyes and it took him a second to recognize the blond in front of him, firstly taking in the strands of hair that fell messily in front of his face rather than the face itself, then realizing it was Yuri standing in front of him. He took his earbuds out and was about to get up when Yuri sat down across from him.

  
\- Hey there. – _Yuri said amicably_ –   
\- Hi.   
\- You’ve been waiting for long?   
\- Kinda, yeah. I was starting to think rehearsal got canceled before you got here.   
\- Guess I’ve got good timing. – _Both shared low and slightly awkward chuckles_ –  
\- Guess you do. 

  
Small talk quickly turned into an actual conversation. They wound up discussing childhood pets, their favorite movies, why Slytherins were misrepresented in the Harry Potter saga, and whether Otabek was a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw, amongst other heated discussions centered around the sorting process at Hogwarts. Hours passed, but it could’ve been minutes for them; it wasn’t until the bell rang, signaling the end of the day, that they realized they had spent the two hours that were meant for rehearsal talking about endless topics. A similar look of disbelief took place on both their faces. Otabek was taken aback by how easy it was to maintain a conversation with another human being, especially given that it was Yuri, someone he was talking to for essentially the first time; Yuri, instead, noticed his brain had stopped buzzing for the entire time he was talking to Otabek, he felt normal again.

After a moment of silence Otabek got up and extended his hand to Yuri to help him get up, Yuri, noticing this, smiled without being entirely aware of it and took him on his offer, the warmth of each other’s hand provided a small comfort for both of the boys.

Otabek gave Yuri a ride home.

* * *

 

Yuri mind was buzzing again, but this time it was akin to being tipsy on alcohol, so he wasn’t bothered by it. He guessed it was due to the abrupt change in his mood, going from being both under and over-aware of his own existence to spending two hours in absolute normality, and he guessed it had something to do with keeping himself accompanied or distracted, that was the one big difference he could pinpoint at first glance.

So that night, he slept peacefully, with his mind finally quiet and his body in a daze-like state, dreaming of warm colors and soft textures grazing his skin lightly, or at least that’s what it felt like for him.

* * *

The next morning wasn’t as forgiving though, he woke up thirty minutes before his alarm and simply laid there, his thoughts going hundreds of different directions at once, none of them quite nice; he felt nauseous, and his body weighed five, or ten, or a hundred times its normal weight, his eyes didn’t focus on anything and there was an odd, bitter taste in his mouth. He tried taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm his heartbeat which he could feel very distinctly all over his body. Somehow, he regained his ability to think distinctly and clearly, unlike the rest of what could be described as a writhing mass of nonsensical thoughts that had no beginning or end, and remembered that being with Otabek the day before had done him good; thinking that getting his mind busy could be the cure to all his ailments he picked up his phone and, after being taken aback by the sudden brightness, he started browsing through the internet. Still, he couldn’t get his mind to focus on anything but its own processes, a meta-thinking of sorts.

There wasn’t much to do after realizing he couldn’t will his brain to go in one or another direction besides trying harder. Deciding that thinking wasn’t going to be enough he got up, starting his morning routine earlier than he would’ve liked. So, he got up and started stretching lightly, hoping the soreness of his muscles would outshine the cacophony going on in his thoughts.

* * *

 

Otabek woke up to the feeling of sunlight warming up his back, he felt comfortable, with his body sprawled on the mattress his muscles felt relaxed and the warmth of the sunshine made him not want to get out of bed for the rest of the week. Knowing that was not even close to a possibility, however, he opened his eyes lazily and ran a hand through his hair, then patting the bed searching for his phone. There was just enough time for him to get ready and leave, he figured he could pick up some breakfast on the way.

His train of thought went towards his aloneness and how good it felt to bask in it, and then, how great he felt talking to Yuri yesterday, there was a slight cognitive dissonance creeping up his spine as he walked into the bathroom to freshen up, but he was able to ignore it easily enough. As he brushed his teeth, he was going over the conversation he had with Yuri, and how natural it felt; it was really confusing for him, not only the fact that he felt comfortable talking to him but how it was reciprocated. See, from briefly seeing Yuri interact with the rest of the theatre crew, he could tell he was holding back a significant part of his personality, and he could also tell he had let a piece of that out while chatting with Otabek. He couldn’t avoid thinking that he was intentionally focusing on Yuri because acknowledging his own vulnerability and the fact that he had enjoyed another human being’s company would weird him out, so he moved on to styling his hair, instead of dwelling on his own thoughts.

* * *

 

Yuri had gotten to school far too early, yet again. He walked around for a while until his hip started acting up, then he couldn’t really walk much more. _Maybe I should take up reading_ , he thought idly, _that way I’d keep myself distracted and my brain would stop buzzing like a fucking vibrator_. He found his way to the bleachers in the football camp and sat down for a couple of minutes, letting his mind wander about while he stared rather emptily at the grass; he came to when he heard a whistle blow, this whole spacing-out thing really was only outdone by getting-out-of-the-trance-thanks-to-loud-noises-hijinks.

  
Watching the football team and the cheerleaders in the field doing athletic stuff made his stomach turn in jealousy and a little regret, before he was fully aware of it, he was calling Otabek.

* * *

 

Otabek would most definitely be lying if he said seeing Yuri’s name in his phone screen hadn’t taken him by surprise, that’s exactly the reason he stared at the phone like it was a foreign object for a moment before finally picking up.

  
\- Yeah?  
\- Otabek? – _Otabek could hear a whistle blowing in the background and the breeze hitting Yuri’s mic_ –  
\- That’s me, everything ok? – _He resumed looking for his wallet, holding his phone by pressing it to his ear with his shoulder.–_   
\- Yeah, yeah. I just felt a little… Bored, and I thought you might be at school.  
\- Oh, alright.  
\- So, you’re here?   
\- Oh, oh. No, I’ll be there in five though, if you wanna wait. – _He found his wallet and moved on to shoving his feet in the pair of boots he usually wore –_   
\- Right, sure. I’ll be in the football field, see ya. – _Yuri hung up before Otabek could say anything_ –

Since he hadn’t been able to say any last words, he stared dumbfounded at his phone. This kid was really doing something to his head if he was able to get him to look that dumb without even trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a hot minute to get out, I'm sorry. I started college last month (I know, who publishes their first fic right before starting college?).  
> But the good news is, being surrounded by people makes coming up with ideas way easier, so I really hope the next chapters are better than all of the nonsense I've been throwing out so far.


End file.
